At noon, the warm sun blazed fiercely.
The sunlight pouring in was sliced into countless diamond shapes by the blinds, casting onto the small tea table and illuminating the corner of the Ace of Diamonds on the desktop.
Zhu Lexing had a slip of paper stuck to her forehead as she stared at the cards in her hand, her expression calm and inscrutable.
Everyone around her held their breath in anticipation. Qiao Qiao sat cross-legged across from her, looking even more aloof, but with twice as many paper slips plastered on her face. The frosty atmosphere instantly crumbled into something hilariously absurd.
“Three with one.” The moment Zhu Lexing spoke, Song Yingying at her side followed up with “King bomb!”
Bombs, airplanes, four with two—in a fluid sequence of plays, Landlord Qiao Qiao had no chance to respond. Seventeen cards untouched, she was shut out cold by the duo.
Qiao Qiao stared at the scattered cards on the table, silent for several seconds before she finally snapped, “Zhu Lexing, you must have cheated.”
Zhu Lexing tsked. “Can’t beat me, so it’s cheating? Xu He, get over here—”
Qiao Qiao opened her mouth to protest, but Xu He had already snatched up a paper slip and slapped it right onto Qiao Qiao’s face.
Now with her vision blocked by yet another slip, Qiao Qiao trailed off. “…”
She parted her lips again, hesitated, then turned a hostile glare on Zhu Lexing.
But sometime in the interim, Zhu Lexing had pulled out her phone and pointed the lens at her.
Snap. Zhu Lexing shot to her feet. “Time to go! Zombie Qiao, I’ll escort you back.”
Qiao Qiao drew in a deep breath. “Delete that photo—”
Zhu Lexing lingered by the door, phone in hand. She turned back and waved the picture at the group.
A zombie perfectly sealed away.
The others instantly caught on and dissolved into laughter.
Suddenly, something soft brushed against Zhu Lexing’s back.
She whipped around in surprise. Yan Mian stood right behind her, gazing at her quietly from just a few centimeters away—so close that they could almost…
…This distance felt exactly like that day on stage.
All it would take was one tilt of her head, and Yan Mian’s lips would meet hers.
To avert disaster, Zhu Lexing stumbled back several steps. Qiao Qiao seized the opening, grabbed the phone from her grasp, and deleted the photo.
The room exploded into chaos. Yan Mian remained rooted in place, her eyes fixed on Zhu Lexing—whose own were half-obscured by the slips of paper—before she addressed the rest of the group. “Come on, class is about to start.”
Once the Lin Family business had wrapped up for the moment, Zhu Lexing and Yan Mian slipped back into their normal routines. The sole exception was their relationship with the entire Stage Drama Troupe, which had drawn much closer after that incident.
Xu He’s sudden warmth toward Yan Mian had Zhu Lexing on edge at first, but Qiao Qiao laid it out plainly. “Xu He’s a total face-connoisseur. She likes anyone who’s good-looking.”
Zhu Lexing thought back to their prickly first encounter and asked skeptically, “Then why doesn’t she like you?”
Qiao Qiao paused. “…Obviously because she’s jealous that I’m taller.”
What an outlandish excuse.
Yet in this world, it landed without a hitch.
For a pack of well-bred rich girls, academics held zero appeal. Any family-mandated diligence had been crammed into them back in childhood—piano, chess, calligraphy, painting, the works.
Student life, then, boiled down to eating, drinking, and fun. Types like Qiao Qiao, who dragged herself to dance practice every day to stay limber, were few and far between.
They were still students, after all; nothing too wild. So their downtime meant piling into the rest room during breaks to…
Play cards.
Zhu Lexing had blinked in disbelief when she first learned of their pastime, half-convinced she’d soul-traveled into some “Card Game Chronicles.”
But their hobby was just that wholesome. Absurd as it seemed, Zhu Lexing shook off her shock and dove right in with gusto.
Xu He packed her things and headed for the door, but not without her signature whine. “Mianmian! How am I supposed to survive without you—”
Zhu Lexing snatched her phone back and instinctively glanced toward the doorway. Seeing Yan Mian gone, she let out a long breath and rubbed her burning ears. “Just lie there and live!”
Yan Mian had been strong-armed into this little clique by Xu He’s relentless dragging.
“Please, you have to come get us before class starts! I can’t take another scolding from home for being late—”
Xu He had meant every word, and Yan Mian had taken it to heart.
Ever since that day, she’d shown up to knock during lunch breaks. Occasionally, Li Nian filled in for her.
Shi Ruofeng had ended up renting a place near Li Nian’s home. The two practically lived, ate, and commuted to school together now, their bond tighter than ever—though things with Yan Mian hadn’t cooled off either.
Zhu Lexing had long sensed how the pair didn’t quite mesh with the group, but she couldn’t figure out a fix.
People’s social circles just didn’t always align. Yan Mian was quiet and gentle by nature, drawn to friends like Li Nian. Zhu Lexing couldn’t very well force her into the fold.
Xu He’s straightforward approach had bridged the gap.
Zhu Lexing was sincerely grateful for it.
Back in the classroom, plenty of students had already stirred from their naps. Just before stepping inside, Song Yingying remembered something and glanced back at Zhu Lexing. “Hey, Lexing, your face—”
Only then did Zhu Lexing recall the slips. She yanked them all off in one go. Yan Mian’s earlier gaze flashed in her mind, and embarrassment prickled up her spine, leaving goosebumps in its wake.
Zhu Lexing thought miserably: Had she really transmigrated here to save Yan Mian?
More like to die of secondhand embarrassment every single day!
Fortunately, amid the nonstop melodrama, she’d forged a heart of steel.
She pretended to read for a bit before murmuring to Song Yingying, “PE class this afternoon, right?”
Song Yingying nodded.
“Let’s duo later. I’ll go marksman, you support. Carry me—we’ll 2v8.”
No. 1 High School didn’t strictly require students to attend PE class. It was always optional.
Zhu Lexing’s idea of PE class was just standing around in the sun, so she always skipped it. Yan Mian did the same for health reasons.
But in Qiao Qiao’s words, PE class was a slacker’s paradise. The school had a professional Sports Room, which for them served as a second venue for playing cards.
Time had to be wasted eventually, so why not waste it now?
Zhu Lexing tried to convince herself, but Song Yingying burst her bubble. “We’re supposed to do activities on the Sports Field. No time to play. Tonight instead.”
Zhu Lexing: “…”
Song Yingying explained a little more, and only then did Zhu Lexing learn that the Sports Room was exclusive to the Flying Class.
It wasn’t entirely unreasonable—after all, it had been built with funding from the parents of Flying Class students.
Still, this kind of preferential treatment felt a bit excessive.
Song Yingying said, “It’s no big deal. Everyone’s used to it.”
Zhu Lexing didn’t say anything more, but after class, she went straight to find Qiao Qiao.
It was rare for her to take the initiative like this, so Qiao Qiao waved her right into the classroom. The Flying Class didn’t have many students, leaving plenty of empty seats. Zhu Lexing sat down in the chair next to her and was immediately dealt a hand of cards.
“Finish the game first,” Qiao Qiao said.
Zhu Lexing glanced at her cards and came to a quick conclusion: total garbage.
She gave up right away, waving her hand casually and playing a 3.
The round wrapped up in a hurry, and Zhu Lexing finally got to her point. “The Sports Room—”
“You coming to the next class?” Qiao Qiao asked. “It’s on the second floor behind the Sports Field. Not far—you can see it if you turn around.”
Zhu Lexing clarified, “I mean, everyone should be able to use it. The Rest Room is public, after all.”
Qiao Qiao gave her a look. “You’re surprisingly… caring. But it’s not like I can just let anyone in. You’d have to talk to the principal.”
Xu He tossed in casually, “And then he’ll tell you, ‘So caring, huh? Can’t stand the regular students getting treated differently? Then have your mom and dad cough up the cash and donate a Sports Room for them—'”
Qiao Qiao grimaced. “God, that’s disgustingly spot-on.”
Xu He rolled her eyes. “You brought it up. But yeah, someone did suggest it, and a new one’s under construction. Don’t overthink it.”
Zhu Lexing could only sigh. “That’s not bad, then.”
As they chatted, Qiao Qiao remembered something else. “I’m gonna differentiate soon.”
Xu He shot her a glance and paused. “Don’t Alphas usually feel it coming? What’d you sense?”
Qiao Qiao said seriously, “The urge to throttle you.”
Xu He: “…”
In the middle of their instant descent into chaotic bickering, Zhu Lexing suddenly thought of herself. During her last checkup, the doctor hadn’t found any problems but also hadn’t given her a specific differentiation timeline.
Under normal circumstances, Zhu Lexing would have brushed it off and moved on.
But right now—with Qiao Qiao announcing her own impending differentiation—something felt wrong to Zhu Lexing.
Deeply, profoundly wrong.
She blurted out, “You don’t think… I might not differentiate into an Alpha, do you?”
How else to explain why she still hadn’t felt even a hint of “differentiation” by now?
Her words hung in the air, and both of them fell silent.
Xu He stared at her in disbelief. “Zhu Lexing, you—”
“Have issues,” the girl cut in bluntly.
Zhu Lexing: ?
Why was she suddenly getting cursed out?
Qiao Qiao explained, “Normal Alpha differentiation happens around eighteen. You’ve still got time—why panic?”
Xu He jumped in. “You aren’t seriously saying the inhibitors delayed your differentiation, are you? Keep that to private chats. Post it on Star Net, and you’ll get sued for defamation—Inhibitors just suppress pheromones! Don’t overthink it!”
Zhu Lexing: “…………”
Zhu Lexing had a sudden realization—and felt like a complete idiot.
After transmigrating into this book, she actually needed her friends to give her basic physiology lessons.
Truly, social suicide every single day.
Xu He wasn’t one to belabor a point. Seeing Zhu Lexing go quiet, she figured the girl was embarrassed and moved on. “There’s some Sports Meet coming up soon, I think. But we probably won’t have to join. We can skip out after the assembly and go play cards.”
Zhu Lexing couldn’t hold back anymore. “Is playing cards all there is to your school life?”
Xu He shrugged. “We can play on our phones too.”
Zhu Lexing mused to herself: Whoever hangs around the protagonist ends up in the protagonist group.
And since she was the protagonist, it was her duty to whip the people around her into shape—make them healthy and active.
Reforming the protagonist group’s slacker vibe? That was on her!
But there wasn’t time right now. She’d plan it out properly back home.
Qiao Qiao was scrolling through her phone when something occurred to her. “Oh, right—these past couple days on Star Net, I saw a film company talking about adapting your stage play. They reached out to me first. Check this out—”
Zhu Lexing blinked, staring at the private message screen Qiao Qiao showed her.
The stage play’s buzz had long since faded with time. Lately, she’d been racking her brain over how to boost Yan Mian’s popularity.
Drawing from her past life’s internet playbook, it would be simple: drop a “self-introduction” template video, play some mini-games, build a fanbase, then drop some sob stories to lock them in. Boom—a full template pipeline to viral fame.
This world chased hype just as hard, but it was brutally strict when it came to casting film and TV actors.
Zhu Lexing remembered Yan Mian from the original work.
She’d ended up acting, after all. And the stage play had proven she had real talent.
Under those circumstances, unless someone bankrolled her as the lead actress outright, there was no way she’d break into the entertainment industry easily.
Zhu Lexing had been planning to pull strings through Zhu Lin. But if someone beat her to it and invited Yan Mian to collaborate ahead of time, she’d just adjust.
Either way, that was a problem for later.
After bidding farewell to the two girls, the class bell rang before long. Zhu Lexing hesitated for a moment but ultimately decided to attend PE class.
When life got too comfortable, it was time to seek out a little hardship for herself.
The PE teacher for Class 7 was a female Beta, apparently with a military background. She ran things with crisp efficiency.
Once they had lined up, she announced, “Today’s objective: divide into two groups. Everyone does thirty sit-ups before the bell, keeping an eye on each other.”
“Oh, right,” she added. “Which one of you is Yan Mian? Doesn’t matter if you’re absent—you’re exempt if you’re here.”
A girl’s voice answered from the ranks, “Got it.”
The voice was right next to Zhu Lexing. She startled and glanced back. There stood Yan Mian, directly behind her.
Beyond the formation, the stark white teaching building rose on the second floor. Just as Qiao Qiao had described, that was the sports room.
Zhu Lexing’s vision was sharp at the moment. She could make out the equipment inside and Qiao Qiao by the window, arms outstretched stiffly as she hopped like a zombie.
Strips of paper were already plastered across Qiao Qiao’s face. She was losing spectacularly.
